


Jokes On You

by thatslife



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatslife/pseuds/thatslife
Summary: Hope is found in the unlikeliest of places.(Set towards the end of the 2019 Joker film)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! After watching the new Joker film (twice) I was inspired to create a fic and couldn't get this idea out of my head. The movie made me go on a rollercoaster of emotions but I loved how raw and real it felt. I especially enjoyed the section of the movie surrounding the female (Sophie) and Arthur. I feel like Arthur interacting with another woman that wasn't his mother was fascinating to watch and I wanted to write my own interpretation of this kind of relationship. Sorry if you're looking for something super lovey-dovey, this is going to be mainly dark. Spoilers ahead, so if you haven't seen the movie, this aint the story for you. Enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the character Joker or DC Comics, I just write stories about them

Wild.

Explosive.

Angry.

Gotham was a broken city.

And no one knew that more than Arthur Fleck.

The view from the apartment was shitty, yet the dancing orange waves from below still managed to reflect in his eyes. It seemed weeks that the burnings licked up every car and corner store down every grunge ridden street, slowly cleansing the mediocrity and lies stained in the pavement.

Arthur Fleck. _Fleck. _

Fuck he hated his last name.

It was another reminder of a world cast in smoke and shadows. A world that no longer held any meaning to the man it had turned it's back on. Arthur hummed loudly, decorating the air with his fingers. _And I think to myself..what a wonderful world._ A laugh bubbled at the edge of his throat when flashing blue suddenly changed the tune of Arthur's symphony, hurling him back into the moment.

The laugh still came of course, like it always did at the wrong moment.

It spilled forth in airy gasps, drawn out and loud, commanding the space around him. Arthur placed a hand on his stomach and threw his head back, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling.

He was panicking.

Of all the times to have a fit it was now. He tried to compose himself, lungs ablaze.

He turned and stumbled with all the grace of an elephant, palms smacking the linoleum. He sputtered out another laugh through his teeth at the image of the creature falling.

Arthur's breath ceased its irregularity as quickly as it had come, leaving him to ponder the unpleasant stickiness on his skin and the body that accompanied it. He flexed his hand and the pool of red shifted to follow the movement, wanting to trap him there. This he did find funny but he only chuckled sharply.

Nothing could trap him now. He was free.

Arthur's reverie was broken by the hiccuping sobs coming from behind him. His brow furrowed, imprinting lines on his forehead.

The girl sounded so upset.

Arthur couldn't understand why. Her tormentor lay slain, crumpled and twisted with all his twisted intentions. The man's blood was still warm, thick, like a Bloody Mary. _Save_ _for the alcohol and garnish_. Arthur smiled wide, chuckling once more. In tandem a cry wretched itself from the girl's mouth.

How in sync they were. Arthur found it oddly poetic.

The pungent stench below him met the back of his throat and the urge to gag was natural. Human. But he swallowed what would have been an embarrassing display and turned to the stranger, whom he'd already become enraptured with. His breath began to hitch, hands trembling in excitement. Surely she would collapse into him, clinging to his suit like a vice, an anchor. Thanking him through her wet, pretty eyes. He licked his lips in anticipation.

But the warmth of her touch never came.

She was huddled in a corner of the dimly lit apartment, her form hunched and alien under the deep blue of the cops’ muffled sirens. Even from his position across the floor he could make out her heaving chest and stained face. She was staring hard at him, expression unreadable to his muddled mind. In his blurred version of reality he thought he saw gratitude and maybe even a glimmer of pity. The same pity that had put her on Arthur's radar.

Not even hours earlier, Arthur was King, admired by all as he stood atop his throne. He was their painted God, a symbol of rebellion and change.

And hell if it wasn't time for that change.

Amidst the chaos he'd spotted her, scurrying past the jeering and cheering clowns, her head lowered in submission, trying to ignore the chaos. His attention passed over her quickly, only to return just as fast at her next actions.

She'd stopped in her tracks.

Despite the rampage and violence, she paused in her stead and unraveled her scarf, knitted from what he could decipher. Arthur thought the worst. _The next person to_ _approach her is getting the noose._ Arthur felt his smile stretch his skin to the point of pain. What a night it was turning out to be.

But..the girl did no such villainous act.

Arthur watched entranced as dirty fingers came to cradle the winter garb from the girl's offering hands. The downtrodden recipient of her generosity nodded their head profusely, no doubt in gratitude. A smile was given in way of response, with a slight wave of her hand. Then she was gone, leaving Arthur to wonder of her existence.

Arthur was stumped.

She was..nice. Genuinely nice. Plain and simple.

Winter was approaching swiftly in Gotham this time of year, the girl's breath smoky in the crisp night air. She obviously needed the scarf, yet had given it to someone less fortunate. Because she wanted too. Because she was_ kind._

Arthur's head became fuzzy, all parts of his insides churning and squirming. Loud thunder drummed a throbbing rhythm in his ears and all he could remember was the scarf, her delicate wrists outstretched..

His blood warmed, clothing tightening in a...certain area of his body. The discomfort and arousal were euphoric, and the laugh that came out of him was a shriek, pushed forth to the heavens as the crowd praised his behavior.

Praised him for being different. For being himself.

Arthur caught the barest hint of a star through the polluted fog of the night sky, and allowed his chest to suffer the attack, in a show of raw emotion. His mind was floating above the desecrated buildings and bloated auras of unfulfilled dreams. His focus was realized in that moment.

Quick smile.

Knitted scarf.

Tiny, pretty wrists.

She was perfect. And Arthur needed a friendly face. Just one. He could be good to her, make her laugh. Make her happy.

He hoped she was into comedy.

Gotham was a broken city.

Arthur was a broken man.

And broken men crave what they can't have.

Arthur had already disappeared before the next batch of police could arrive.

Eyewitness reports would say he was skipping as he did so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback, it really motivates me to write faster!

You were terrified.

Your fear took the form of cold sweat gathering at the nape of your neck, sticking your thin nightshirt to your body. You couldn’t stop the tremors wracking your nerves, despite the space heater next to you and couldn’t peel your eyes from the gruesome scene in front of you.

A man had just been murdered in cold blood in your living room. And the psychopath who committed the act was looking at you as if you were his next meal. Or victim. You swallowed hard, taking in the intruder’s appearance.

In all honesty, you weren’t afraid of clowns. It wasn’t a fear plaguing others that had the same effect on you. You found them funny at times, although a bit creepy. Spiders turned your stomach more than clowns did.

These opinions had been significantly altered after the city spread revolution had erupted.

That as well as the brutal massacre of your ex not two feet from you.

It all happened so fast. A routine (unwelcome) visit from the deceased turned horribly wrong. If you closed your eyes you could still see his brain matter exploding across the drywall.

How had everything gone so sideways? Why had any of this happened? Questions of this nature caught in your throat, dying away at the silence and continued staring. The _fucking_ staring. It felt like a lifetime of the stifling quiet when the brightly dressed man blinked slow..and rolled his body upright until he was leaning back on his heels. He kept eye contact with you the whole time, his hands dragging crimson liquid up his thighs, staining his pants. Pieces of his long green hair fell to cover one of his eyes, leaving the exposed one to deliver a wink.

You flinched back as if burned.

You wanted to fight, hide, scream, do anything but wait to be attacked too. None of these things happened. You found the courage (or stupidity) to do something else instead.

“Please..let me go.” You were proud that your voice only cracked once.

Nothing.

You tried again.

“Ple-”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Soft. What a small, soft voice for such an imposing figure. You blinked in way of response and the clown continued, “I want to keep you..safe.”

This had to be some sort of sick joke.

“Did he hurt you?” An edge creeped into his voice, reminding you of the danger you were still in. No matter what was coming out of his mouth, his hands were what you needed to worry about. Watching them intently, you wet your lips, feeling them start to dry.

“Wha-what?”

You’d always been so eloquent with words.

“Did that _monster_ hurt you?” He sounded impatient, his hands gripping his pants so hard you heard the fabric groaning. You held in a scoff at his use of the emphasized word, wondering if he understand the irony. He stood suddenly, and you inhaled air so fast through your nose it burned. It took less than a second for him to reach you. _Soft voice,_ _quick step._

You had very little hope of surviving the night.

Him crouching down to your level in a fluid movement made you dizzy, the blood from your brain dispersing to the erratic vessels in your heart. You tried to be small, believing if you appeared insignificant the clown would give you the gift of your life. You thought of all the simple things: park benches, well read books, cheap coffee, and vowed to never take them for granted again if you got the chance too.

Up close he was a nightmare, his painted face melting, running off his skin in noticeable rivlets. There was a large gash on the side of his head, the blood from the injury smeared. None of this compared to the state of his mouth. His lips were garishly drawn, the sides stretched up so far it was unsettling, so unnatural you had to turn away, choosing to avert your attention elsewhere.

The man leaned in close and exploding brains flashed in your mind. Piercing eyes scanned you head to toe before you locked eyes, his mouth open in a release of deep breath.

“Let me see.”

_Oh hell no._

“Don’t touch me.” The defensive comment was a learned and useful one growing up on Gotham’s harsh streets, a warning that no one before had disregarded. Clearly today was a day of firsts. The man repeated himself and inched closer, the scent of his body, gasoline and blood, making your eyes water.

“Don’t be afraid.” He frowned, the tone of his voice...sad. He continued, “You don’t have to pretend. I know what it's like to hide the pain.” This made you still, made you wonder about the man behind the murderer. If he thought you cared there was a small chance of your survival. Your options were this or..God knew what. You squared your shoulders, bit the bullet.

“What’s your name?” You gave as much of a smile as you could, which probably looked closer to a grimace, and balled your hands in your lap to stop their shaking. The man’s eyes widened, looking comically shocked for a moment. Then his hand lifted, drops of red dribbling down the suit sleeve.

_Cooperation is key in survival._

You took his hand, just holding it until he smiled, all teeth. You felt like you were making a deal with the devil.

“Arthur. My name’s Arthur.”

“Y/N..”

Outside, the beginnings of a storm raged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is concerned. Things get out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I am so happy everyone is enjoying the story, I am trying hard to keep updates as frequent as possible! Have a wonderful day everyone!

Why hadn't the police come? They were so painfully close, right outside your fucking window to be exact. Why the hell hadn't they heard the screaming, the skull cracking against your drywall? You blamed it on the general uncaring attitude of the GCPD towards the less fortunate and your less than favorable living conditions. But maybe if you could just get to the door..

"Everyone is so afraid of me, I don't want you to be like that." He said quietly, still gripping your hand. Oh God why me? Your mother always said you attracted the worst people. If only she knew how right she was. You were afraid to even breathe too loudly, taking quick shallow breaths to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible.

Wishful thinking on your part.

Arthur raggedly exhaled, the air hitting your semi bare arm. Your skin prickled, bubbling up at the unexpected change in temperature.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest.

Arthur seemed to be fixated on a spot near your shoulder, his eyes boring holes at the area. Your discomfort rose, the urge to cry again rising in the back of your throat. Would he...try to take your clothes off? Use your body in every twisted way possible, and then strangle you until you stopped fighting? Your mind was a blur, whipping up a concoction of possible, awful scenarios. You tried to lowkey pull away from his tight grasp but he was stronger than he looked, refusing to budge, but murmuring out, “I’ll be gentle.”

You only let his statement sink in for a second before you yanked away sharply, crying out when instead of freedom, you were pulled back into a hard, bony chest. Despite the layers of clothing, his body was mapped out before you, pressed much too close.

Alarms blared in your brain.

You twisted your torso, and dug your heels into the floor, struggling against the surprising strength of the thin man. You threw your head back, trying to headbutt Arthur, but he ducked out of the way, wrapping an arm around your midsection.

The evidence of his crime seeped through your clothes.

“Don’t touch me! Just please! Please let me go.” You were hyperventilating, hair clinging to the moisture in your eyes, blinding you almost immediately. You felt him hovering over you, felt his nose brush the top of your head.

It was all too much.

You wept, hating your fragility, how easy it was for this stranger to reduce you to this state. Hated the city for creating him and dumping him on your doorstep. The life you’d dreamed of was a winding trail, getting smaller and more distant every second you spent in Arthur’s clutches. You watched as your tears left translucent puddles on the wood each time you blinked. It took your ears a moment to tune in to what was happening around you.

“Y/N.”

You stuttered on a breath.

“Relax.”

The room was getting smaller.

The sudden light touch of fingers made you dizzy and nauseated at once, yet your expelled energy made it hard to do anything about it. You slumped forward and whimpered, only avoiding the ground by Arthur’s secure hold. He was taking his time in skimming his fingers up and down your arm, his breathing slowed but his heart beating fast against your back. You peeked down at the appendage restraining you and noticed blooming red dots. It wasn’t your blood. Something clicked for you. You rotated your jaw, hoping it still knew how to function.

“H-Hey, Arthur?” You cringed. His exploration stilled.

“Yes, Y/N?” His voice was higher in pitch.

“You’re..”

_Insane. Disgusting. Immoral. A murderer._

“Bleeding.” No shit Sherlock.

Arthur drew away from you quickly, wiping the offending spots, before locating the source of them. He pressed his palm to his nose, looking away from you. Was he embarrassed?

“I’m sorry.”

You said nothing, limbs granite, glued to the spot. You watched as Arthur searched for something to wipe the blood, before he found a suitable tissue. He was using the shirt from your ex’s corpse.

The body jerked as it was disturbed and you did vomit then, until all that was left was stomach acid and the bitter after taste of your emptied dinner in your mouth. A hand came to rub circles on your back and you gagged, knowing it wasn’t just because of the sickness.

“I’ll take care of ev-”

Banging came at your door like the voice of angels.

Arthur was covering your mouth at once, your cries muffled.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there! You ain’t skippin out on rent again this month.”

Your landlord. You screamed through the layers of dirt and grime and tried to make as much noise as possible. Arthur gripped your jaw so hard it hurt and you moaned in pain.

“You think I won’t do it? I’ll call the cops on your ass. I mean it!”

Please, let his threat not be empty this time. You pleaded, hearing his footsteps retreat down the hall. Arthur jumped up, bringing you with him, and shoved you to the door nearest you that wasn't the exit. He was calm, deceptively calm.

“Get in the bedroom now.”

You glanced at the kitchen, debating how quickly a knife handle would reach your grasp.

“Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to hurt you too.”

“Why-”

“Get. In. The. Bedroom. _Now_.”

A look had come over him, the same look he had when he’d found you and your ex fighting. Someone else was going to die. You took a step back, searching for the door handle to your room without breaking his stare. The hinges squeaked, and you cringed, gaze going back to the remains of a once breathing, functioning human being.

“Don't look. I’ll take care of everything.”

You ran in the room before you could think better of it and slammed the door behind you, feeling only a little relieved that the lock was working.

So much for small blessings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something becomes apparent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been so supportive and kind with your reviews, I am so grateful! This one is a bit longer, so I hope it was worth the wait!

You waited.

The almost imperceptible sound of Arthur mumbling met your ears, his words like pinpricks, faint, before you heard something heavy slamming. Followed by..silence. Utter silence.

You don't know how long you had your head pressed to the door, straining to pick up on anything. Your neck had begun to ache, the rising wave of panic in you slowly dissipating, leaving behind an overwhelming blanket of exhaustion. You released a pent up sob and slid to the floor, your legs collapsing under the raging emotional pressure. It felt _unreal._ A clown was holding you hostage in your own apartment with unknown intentions for god knew how long.

You were more scared than you'd ever been.

Your stomach churned as you remembered the scent in the room next to you and it took everything in you to pull yourself into the bathroom. You gagged, unable to expel anything else as you held on weakly to the sink's edge. You waited for your body to calm, the lingering taste of bile stinging your esophagus. You lifted your head after composing yourself but shrank back, the woman in the mirror startling you. It was a few seconds before you understood the woman was..you.

If you hadn’t known any better you would believe yourself a victim of a crime.

Blood was smeared in thick swipes across your middle, extending down to your legs and even your face. Your scalp felt sticky, and you just knew there was blood caked there too. The ghost of Arthur’s palm lingered over your mouth, dark eyes commanding obedience. You yanked the knob of the faucet on, bending to viciously scrub at your lips, ignoring the way your insides protested against the cold invasion.

You didn’t stop until your skin was red and raw, clean of his imprint.

Your life was now a psychopath's play thing, a toy to be used and then thrown away. Your rimmed eyes were accusing, as if you were solely to blame. And were you? You tried to recall any single moment that could've led up to this but came up blank. All in all you were a decent human being, getting by on what little you could afford in Gotham's skewed economy.

You debated on whether this was punishment for not paying your rent on time. Twice. An intense dread made you sway as you remembered how Arthur's expression has shifted, how rough he'd become at your landlord's presence. Something horrible was going to happen to him too. You felt it deep in the pit of your empty belly, like a foreboding omen. A throbbing pain in your temple made itself known and you pressed your fingers to the spot, hoping the pounding would cease. You didn't have the strength to deal with a migraine on top of everything else.

The dim lighting in the bathroom flickered, contorting your image.

The unexpected sound of manic laughter alerted you to Arthur's return, and your nightmare resumed in full force.

You scrambled out of the bathroom, watching the door in case he attempted to break it down. The rest of your room was bathed in midnight, the only illumination filtering from the bathroom, subtle, but comforting. Odd how you found solace in the dark in a situation like this.

The cackling continued until it faded into a more tolerable cadence, the echo of it reverberating in your ears. You relaxed your hands, not realizing you'd been clenching them. The oh so familiar quiet settled in until your interest could be ignored no longer.

Curiosity was a fickle thing.

You had to know what Arthur was doing, the little voice inside nagging you forward. You gnawed at your lip, your anxiety at a new high, even more so than before. What if he was waiting for you to leave so he could pounce? Your hand hesitated on the knob, heartbeat pulsing in your chest. You could only stall for so long realistically.

The hinges of your door whined, rusty and over used. Of all the things this apartment had seen, you wondered if this was the craziest.

The trail of clothes at your feet made you alert, and you cautiously looked around for the owner of the shed items. Your eyes followed the trail, only glancing at the still very real corpse to the right of you for a second. You swallowed loudly, wincing at how audible the noise was.

You found a total of four clothing pieces: socks, a jacket, and a vest before you found him. He was slumped on your couch, long limbs splayed in every direction, the top buttons of his long sleeve popped open. His head was hung over the edge of your furniture, a plume of smoke escaping his painted mouth. He was still, so still you thought him dead.

Your foot met a creak in the floor and you suddenly had the attention of the very much not dead clown..again.

His reaction was slow and unhurried. He took his time in rotating his neck upward, bringing the polluting mist with him. It billowed over his face, dancing as it dissolved into the ceiling. His feet were bare, a detail you'd overlooked, but one that made him seem less menacing. Almost.

The toxic smell of nicotine assaulted your nostrils and your head reeled, making you feel dizzy. You coughed and Arthur took another drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt to the floor. His toes crushed the remainder of the cancer stick and you wondered if it hurt him.

If anything could hurt him.

"Y/N.."

His words were like granite, gravelly and low.

With a tongue tied in knots you nodded, hoping this was enough to satisfy him. His hand left the armrest to pat the space next to him and you clenched your teeth.

"I have such good news." The smoky rasp in his voice made your skin crawl, more than his presence already did.

"N-news?" You chatised yourself for the stutter.

Arthur smiled serenely and only drummed his fingers on the couch cushion. He wasn't going to say a damn thing unless you did what he wanted. How far would he take this? Being closer to the man was a horrible, terrible idea in itself.

But your options were limited and few.

You steeled the small bundle of jittery nerves you had, and approached his relaxed form, sinking down onto the couch. You spied a small patch of dark hair disappearing into his open shirt, his chest rising and falling with ease.

Whatever he'd done, he wasn't affected by it.

He sighed, the smell of the cigarette hitting your face, making you nauseous again. Even though he wasn't touching you, it was somehow worse than when he was.

"You're safe now. There's no one left to hurt you."

Reassured you were not.

"Arthur..what-," you inhaled, "what are you talking about?"

This was the longest conversation you had attempted.

He moved too fast for you to think, and grasped your face in his grimy fingers, grinning ear to ear. Your teeth negan to hurt as you put more pressure on them.

"No ones gonna bother us ever again. I can make you happy now."

He was gazing at you with such a dreamy far away look, you were taken aback, and you whimpered, reaching for his wrists.

His body shook at your touch, a moan slipping past his lips. He stared at the spot you were connected.

"You're so..warm."

He didn't feel that much cooler than you, but something told you his admission had a different meaning. You tested your theory by rubbing one of his wrists with your thumb.

He shuddered intensely, and you could hear how his breathing became ragged. You understood now.

He was touched starved.

Among whatever other mentally wrong things with Arthur, he obviously craved even the simplest gestures of human contact. Maybe you could use this to your advantage.

The wick of your freedom flickered back to life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you want is a shower. Arthur is being difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE. Sincerest apologies for disappearing for a while, I've been very busy with work and haven't had the motivation to write this like I wanted too. I also lost a big chunk of my notes for this story, so I was having trouble figuring out where to take this chapter. HOWEVER, I am back with the goodies and I hope you will forgive me and enjoy Arthur and his ridiculousness. I know recently times have been scary and uncertain but I hope everyone is staying safe and finding ways to keep entertained while things slowly but surely go back to normal. Any questions, comments? Please send em my way! Love you all, mwah!

The rain was coming down in heavy sheets now. 

Pelting drops mimicked the sporadic hitching of your breath, heartbeat pounding against jutting bones that burned under your fingertips. The ceiling met your stare, clumped bits of plaster scattered, far away but still very tangible. 

Your ‘plan’ so to speak, had backfired. Because of course it did. 

You’d started to touch Arthur, dim lighting bouncing off the dark concaves in his skin, casting disturbing shapes across your couch. No..touch was the wrong word. Skimmed was closer to the truth. Touching him would have made the situation more unbearable than it already was. 

He had begun to tremble as you hesitantly felt his forearms, his skeletal form horrifying and remarkably..sad. 

When your palm cupped his elbow however, everything had shifted, the fear simmering at the surface of your consciousness bubbling over, the noise leaving your lips a cry, muffled under the sudden compressed weight of your captor. 

His nose was abruptly buried in your neck, mouth pressed to your collarbone, light groans pushed from chapped lips. Forced down by this stranger, your anger and revulsion took the place of whatever wisps of sympathy you may have conjured as you dug your nails into the stretched paper thinness of his skin. The smell of him was suffocating, tar and decay soaked into him like a cologne. You wondered how obvious your pulse was to his ears, how easy it would be for his teeth to puncture the vulnerable surface. 

You wondered what he would do next. 

The echo of his laughter crawled from the cracks you couldn’t see, gurgling, and utterly _ inhuman. _

“Arthur you’re-” 

“Soft..” 

“Crushing me. I-I can’t breath please.” His own words were mumbled, vibrations flushing your body with warmth. You decided not to think about why it did. 

“How are you so soft?” If Arthur expected an answer he didn't push for one, seemingly content to hold you hostage under him. 

“You said that you would make me happy,” your eyes blinked away the creeping panic, “right Arthur?” 

His sharp inhale burned as it flew across your throat. 

Dark eyes connected with your own then, searching with an open hunger that made you queasy and nervous. 

“I can tell you care about me, and..I’m so grateful for all you’ve done for me. I just,” you swallowed the tight feeling in your throat, “need some space to think, this is all happening so fast..” You trailed off once you noticed he was smiling. _ Fucking _smiling. 

“Ohh you’re so cute. What is there to think about? It's just you and me now.” He sounded sickeningly sweet, his voice almost a purr. Every time he breathed the sharp outline of his ribs jabbed into your own, making it hard to concentrate. 

_ Tell him what he wants to hear. Just get him off. Get him OFF- _

“You’re right. Just you and me.” 

_ Remind me again why you targeted me? _

“But I really need to clean up Arthur. I’m a-a mess.” The excuse came out flat, so unconvincing even you knew the conviction was shaky at best. Although you truly did want to take a shower. 

Arthur was unfazed, eyes dropping to give you a once over. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” 

His confession made you itchy, like the old sweater your late grandmother had gifted years ago. Blinking was a chore now, you had to remind yourself to do so lest the true thoughts behind your eyes became apparent. The once lulling sound of a storm bore down like a weighted blanket, heavy and much too warm. 

“If I'm clean I won’t get sick.” You tried a different approach. Your health was important to him, wasn’t it? 

He blinked and you released a ball of tension, letting your shoulders sag slightly. You were running on sheer will alone, the evening’s events taxing on you, both mentally and physically. 

“And you won’t either. Get sick I mean. Who will take care of me if you’re gone?” 

_ Take the bait, take the bait. _You pleaded. Make him believe you need him. 

His previous intensity returned full force, the calloused palms of his hands blocking your peripheral. The scent of cigarette was acrid as he spoke, your lungs begging for fresh air. 

“I will always be there for you. Nothing’s gonna change that. _ No one _ will, understand?” The finality of his statement filled a pool of dread so deep in your belly it was painful. 

“Arthur..” 

“Hm?” 

“Can I then?” 

“What?” He had to be toying with you. 

Frustration made your teeth clench. 

“Get clean?” Squirming you knew would only distract in all the wrong ways, so you forced yourself to be still. Submissive. You hadn’t felt anything suspicious yet..but the night was still young and someone this unstable was bound to get..excited. Arthur was mumbling something now in a trance, eyes unfocused but very very open. 

He slowly rose to his knees and you tried not to cry in relief. His words were fainter now, but still decipherable. You strained to hear. 

“Clean..clean. We should. That's what couples do isn't it? I saw it once on a show..” 

He was looking through you, an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint gleaming from the depths of his mind. There came an animalistic urge to bite and claw at the melted clown until he was nothing more than shredded bits on the upholstery. You pushed yourself to sit with your back pressed to the armrest, putting one leg down. You grimaced at your ruined furniture but knew this was the least of your worries. Flicking your gaze to your bedroom door, knowing how close a hot stream of water was, made you achingly desperate. You imagined wriggling organisms under your nails, burrowed under the layers of your stained clothes and body. 

A cold sweat broke out on your forehead. Your foot twitched in the direction it wanted to go, wanted to _ run. _Suppressing the flight response you rose slowly, hands balled into fists so he wouldn’t see them shake. You watched as he came back to himself. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go no-” 

“Without me?” 

He sounded almost wounded. HIs peeking chest hair became more visible as he twisted to slump back, his knees spread apart in a deceivingly relaxed position. A light thumping filled the silence, his feet resuming their earlier movement. You kept quiet, not knowing if the next thing you said would set him off. 

In the corner of your vision the lamp flickered for a brief second, but your anxiety peaked, envisioning all the ways the boogeyman in the room could attack. Arthur smiled, a mouth full of too wide and _ too sharp _ teeth. He let his hand fall his thigh, before the digit bent, commanding you over. It was a trap, set by a cheery grandma with a wolf’s nose and poised claws. 

“C’mere sweetheart.” The endearment had your head swimming, but you stayed put. His face didn’t change but his tone did, no longer content and cheery. 

“Do I have to repeat myself?” 

Dread and unease shot up your spine but you knew there was really nothing you could do. You shuffled forward, making yourself small. Hunching over, you wrapped your arms around your midsection, prepared to protect essential organs. Arthur’s head tilted, the bits of dried paint cracking on his forehead illuminated by the light. 

“There’s just one thing..” You held your breath, stopping. 

Arthur’s smile lost some intensity, the full mouth closing to a tight lipped one. He spoke softly, almost a whisper, “Don’t be long..or I’ll have to come and _ clean _you myself.” 

You shivered violently, not caring if he knew the fear he instilled. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes, not bothering to wipe the blood from the cancer stick he selected. A lighter reappeared out of nowhere, bringing the tip of the cylinder to life. You scrunched your nose, hating the now potent smell. 

Arthur crossed one leg over the other and took a long drag. 

“You have until I finish this to be done.” 

A pile of ashes fell onto his lap, showing you just how quickly the cigarette was vanishing. Arthur smirked, putting the tube back to his lips. 

His chuckle followed as you all but sprinted to the bathroom. 


End file.
